Once There Was A Way....

                                                 To get back home. Lyrics from track 14 on the Beatles Abbey Road album Golden Slumbers made me think about what's on my mind today. This is a conversation I've had more than once as my hunting partner and I crisscrossed the western plains states. Talking hour after hour as we knocked down miles often times late into the night.

If you look at your life it's often obvious how we call on the past as a reference point for our future. We would ponder the difference between living in the past and simply pursuing our passion which may have been born during those innocent days of our childhood. But isn't that just trying to recreate a moment in time we'd ask ourselves.

The answer is that living in the past is when you stop searching for new adventures and your reality becomes only those experiences recalled from memory. Our debate was not whether how you lived was right or wrong but just being conscious of your choice as to how you spend your time and why. Being on the road has a way of causing you to ponder such deep and profound subjects! Sometimes we reached conclusions other times thoughts were left just hanging in the air as questions with no answers. Then there would be miles of silence before our minds refocused.

As we watched our headlights illuminate mile after mile of the road ahead we knew our pursuit did in fact have it's roots in our early years. The things we experienced and where we lived no doubt shaped our lives in much the same ways. I refer to these things as perfect moments. Experiences and feelings permanently embedded in our minds and filed under "all things good". Everyone can recall these things in their lives and how they've played a role in shaping the future.

We agreed on the distinction between trying to relive the past and simply following a path whose rewards are familiar and have a high probability of satisfaction. I likened it to having a great run skiing. Your mind and body remembers the adrenaline rush and alerts your senses to look for it and want it again. So you try and try again sometimes finding it over and over. Other times you can't get it quite right as conditions  change and your chance is lost. But your mind and body still remember and drive you to find it again pushing you and inspiring you to act. To move forward searching.

That's exactly what we were doing as our vehicle filled with favorite guns and gear towing a trailer with 5 bird dog's made it's way through the plains states. Our memories had become a compass in a way telling us in fact this was our way home. A way to search and find those perfect moments over and over again. 

Looking Back And Looking Ahead

                                                       Looking back the setters and I certainly had a wonderful life together. Actually the experiences we had exceeded my imagination of what our time together would be like. As I look into the crystal ball that sits on my bedroom bureau it serves as a reminder to me that the future is only limited by my own imagination.

Mick taking a break west of the old windmill with Beau and Molly in the background. We started our sharptail season here for many years. Seeing 100 to 150 birds a day was common before CRP acres started to vanish. What a time we had!

                                                        As each dog passes I'm reminded that there are beginnings and endings always and that it's important to celebrate both. They are reminders of how to make the most of your time. The incredible experiences we remember and cherish in our lives always require the courage to make decisions to take the first steps on any journey. If I had done a cost analysis of what this journey would have cost me in real time and money from a practical view point it may have been easy to not write that check. But then what would I have had? For myself the question really was what is your life worth to you?

A wonderful place we hunted together in the foothills of the Bighorn mountains. Physically challenging but oh so breathtakingly beautiful! The setters were in the prime of their lives the years we hunted here. Just magnificent to have watched them against this vista.

                                                       The people who's lives have been interrupted by loss and hardship that just pick up and continue on their way are an inspiration to me as I look ahead now. I wonder then as I look into the eyes of the new pup watching me at my side what our life together will be like. Beautiful sun rises and sunsets. The passing of the seasons. Watching new life emerge. The comfort of a loyal companion. Tears of laughter. Tears of sorrow. That's the cycle of life. The setters passing reminded me to again understand and embrace it not turn my back on it.

Molly. The queen of the castle!

                                                       The reason I'm writing is so I'll never forget what it felt like to follow not just my beautiful trio of setters but my own heart. I have been lucky to have been able to spend much of my life where I needed to be for the most part. As I look back then it startles me sometimes to now know how important that really was. Looking ahead it makes my path an easy one to choose. Just follow that dog!

                                                      

                                                      

Along The Way, The Cop That Got Shot By A Skunk

                                           This is a story about neighbors mostly. People are pretty much the same wherever you go as I see it. Harmony exists between people when the Golden Rule is observed that is treating others as you would expect to be treated. On the flip side everything can go to hell pretty quickly when people seem to be void of any such wisdom.

With a population the majority of which is retired folks you have within this small town a considerable amount of time spent on lawn and garden maintenance. There are some people that work all day clipping and snipping keeping their property looking beautiful. A great way to keep active and needless to say a great source of pride in doing so.

Now comes the core of the drama. Cats. Lots of domestic cats allowed to wander about and then due to folks that feel sorry for those cats not so fortunate to have homes lots of feral cats living under buildings and within abandoned structures. In the spring of 2015 there was a real problem with the number of both populations. I'd see them hopping in and out of garbage cans in the alleyways left uncovered and of course come across areas in my flower beds they had used as cat boxes. The lady across the street whose yard is just immaculately kept was just beside herself. The ferals and a crew of domestics were using her hedges and display garden as a playground. After listening to her complain about this problem I encouraged her to call the city and talk to the owner of the domestics that lived a few houses away. Turns out that lady fed the ferals in her abandoned garage all winter which explained why they were in our neighborhood.

After trying to just be a good listener hoping my neighbor would push the city into action I said well if you want to borrow my live trap you can. Then just call the cops and they'll come and pick up the cats. I had called them myself inquiring about what they were doing about the problem.

The first day the neighbor had the trap the cops had to come twice within the first couple hours. Then it was pretty much one a day for a week mostly ferals. If my neighbor wasn't going to be home I'd set the trap at my yard and within a short time had caught 7 or 8 cats just on my side of the street in addition to the several that the neighbor had caught. I am not a cat hater by any means it's just that this was a real problem. In the mean time word was out around town that my neighbor and I were "cat catchers" as they referred to us. The cops were in the neighborhood almost daily for over 2 weeks.

Despite our efforts to get the city to deal with the issue the domestics still kept coming into my neighbors garden areas and using her whole yard as a cat box. They'd break off plants, lay down in the flowers and just set up vigils at the bird baths. Then I was up early one morning and walked across the street to check the trap at my neighbors. As I walked around the hedge I could see something in the trap. I watched for a few seconds when I saw black and white and I mean a stripe of white on the back! I laughed to myself knowing what had happened as I also then picked up the faint odor of skunk! It was just after 6 a.m. too early to wake anybody up over a skunk in a trap so I went home and continued on my morning routine of coffee and surfing the news. I lost track of time until my doorbell rang around 9 0clock I guess. As I walked to the front door there stood my neighbor. Oh my gosh I thought I hope she didn't get sprayed! That thankfully wasn't the case as she explained what she had found when she went out to check her garden coffee in hand. I started laughing before she revealed the part about the skunk and she said, "oh did you already know? why I could have been sprayed by that damn thing!" For second I thought I might be in trouble but I quickly added it was too early to wake anybody and I lost track of the time you see... No worries there. I suggested a call to the police.

Officer Nathan rode up minutes later and took a look surveying the situation. I stayed on my side of the street! After 15 minutes or so of walking back and forth trying to figure out how to get this thing out of the yard I walked over to see what he was proposing to do." Well can't shoot him cause it's in town. Spose we could drop a cover on the cage and just walk it to the truck and take him out to the landfill and then shoot him". Just then here comes one of the city employees with the city backhoe. I said "Hey ask Roger he'll know what to do". So officer Nathan flags down the backhoe and the two of them formulate a plan. They decided to lift officer Nathan up in the backhoe bucket over the hedge so he could drop a blanket over the cage then hook a chain to the trap so Roger could then hoist officer Nathan back over the hedge with the cage dangling from the bucket. Then they could put the cage covered in the backhoe and officer Nathan would follow Roger out of town so he could then dispose of the skunk!

I stayed on my side of the street watching the plan in action. What a spectacle! Off they went out of town. I had told officer Nathan that was my trap and I wanted to make sure I got it back. No problem he said I'll bring it right back. It got to be middle of the afternoon and the neighbor and I were both taking a break from lawn and garden maintenance. I said I wondered when my trap was coming back and just at that moment here comes the police vehicle down the street. Officer Nathan gets out and is wearing only a t shirt and not his regular uniform. I can smell skunk pretty strongly. How did it go? Well when I bent down to shoot him in the cage just as I was going to shoot he turned around and shot me first! He said he would have been back sooner but he had to go home and change out of his uniform. He informed me the cost of over 600 dollars including his Kevlar vest was probably a loss as you just can't get that smell out!

An unwelcome visitor. Elliot a well known cat in the neighborhood has claimed my neighbors garden as his domain much to her dismay. We caught him once but his owner refuses to deal with the issue.

So the story made for good conversation that summer but hard feelings still existed between people on opposing sides of the problem. The city did actively communicate to those people feeding feral's finally but my neighbor was still plagued by the domestics from down the street.

Love Creeks Mick

                               Mick my beautiful gentle and loving boy passed away on a cool sunny afternoon the second day of spring 2016. Mick was a Pinecoble setter with tri color markings that were just stunning. Bred as a classic grouse dog his pedigree was full of Old Hemlock lineage.

The sloughs froze early in November 2014 making this day a memorable solo hunt for Mick and I. Two weeks later together with my sons Jared and Carson we enjoyed Mick's last day in the field together on a snowy Thanksgiving weekend. He just wouldn't give up, I'd stop frequently to clean his paws of snow and we'd continue on into the wind. 

He arrived at the Love Creek valley in the winter of 2003 as a pup of 11 weeks. Mick soon revealed his playful nature and gentle personality that were distinct traits throughout his lifetime. With wild birds out our back door there was plenty of scent to discover and explore. Those early days were spent just walking the 3/4 mile lane leading to the farm with me admiring this new and beautiful creature that had come into my life.

We have all experienced moments when we know opportunities are upon us. Instinctively something within us knows we are close to what may be essential to our survival and well being. Mick was exactly that. The match was "right as rain" as the saying goes. So Mick became true north for me at a time when at age 49 I was ready to map out the rest of my life. I often lamented Mick not arriving earlier but the truth was I wasn't quite ready for him yet.

Mick training on quail at the farm

As an avid reader I had been enjoying the Ben Williams accounts of prairie hunting with multiple dogs when I reconnected with an old friend from high school who just happened to have been hunting in North Dakota. Soon 2 new roommates arrived for Mick also Pinecoble setters! That started a decade of traveling and hunting experiences I remembered only reading about in magazines as a kid in the local barbershop.

Thanks to Mick my life had taken on new meaning and purpose. He taught me most of what I now know about dog's even though I'd had a dog all my life. There was also no doubt that I belonged to him. Always by my side and watched by those big brown eyes. Tail wagging till the end.

Mick was a dominant male no doubt about that but due to his gentle nature we always came to compromise. His eyes seemed to always say trust me R lets just try it my way! So most of the time we did as Mick would leave no birds behind ever! And he'd hold a point for as long as it took me to find him. He had uncanny bird sense so I just let him work his magic a beautiful thing it was indeed.

A proud and dominant dog but so very gentle and loving. That was my Mick indeed.

One story about Mick I haven't told in these pages was a visit to the vets office several year's ago. We were sitting in the large lobby waiting to be called when a little boy about 4 years old came walking over with a stuffed toy in one hand. This boy was fidgety and smiling as he made his way towards us Mick having his eye on the toy. He was the only one of my setters that enjoyed toys. The little boy stopped a couple feet from us and said he was here because his mom had to bring their wiener dog to see the doctor because he was to fat! He explained that the doctor said the dog had to be on a special diet but that he still gave him extra food when he was hungry if his mom wasn't looking! Then he reached out and petted Mick on the head and being a proud dominant dog Mick responded with a cautionary rumble from deep within his throat meaning R tell the kid no petting on the head! Tail was wagging the whole time of course but I explained to this precocious little boy what the rules were.

So today I feel a little lost without my Mick. He was my compass for more than a decade. The number one rule in bird hunting is to follow the dog of course. That I did and for many people this may be beyond their understanding how a dog could be a catalyst for changing your lifestyle. The lesson is to know when these opportunities are upon you as they can come in very unexpected ways then listen to the voice inside for directions. Be faithful to yourself and follow them. Thanks to Mick he was all of that for me as well as a loving and faithful companion that helped change my life in so many wonderful ways! Hold that point Mick I'll be there soon.
                              

Love Creeks Molly June 8th 2003 to June 10th 2015

Sweet sweet Molly a truly remarkable hunter and companion passed away late in the afternoon on June 10th. We helped her cross over after what was as wonderful a life as any bird dog could have. Born with more natural ability than I'd ever seen. 

Molly was a Pinecoble setter and I chose her after spending quite a bit of time with the litter. I noticed a slightly larger pup that stayed on the outside preoccupied with carrying around a rope toy in her mouth. I'd pick her up which she was agreeable too but then watched as she went back to the rope toy. The other pups clamored around our feet as Warren and I talked. Since the folks with second pick of the litter wouldn't arrive until late the next day I stayed the evening in a local hotel and returned the next morning. Actually before my head hit the pillow that night I knew that pup a little more independent than the others was going home with me.

Molly pointing Quail at the farm shortly after arriving home.

This is what natural ability means!

The 1000 mile ride home was like no other I'd ever been on. I had placed Molly in a small kennel right between the seats in my van and soon after we exited Warrens driveway she started my orientation. Molly had a set of lungs you wouldn't believe. Howling at a pitch that was unbearable but I thought well give it a while and she'll settle down. I think I lasted just a few miles down the interstate before she was in my lap for the rest of the entire trip!

Little did she know her new home already had 2 room mates waiting also Pinecoble Setters. Mick was 10 months and Beau 6 months old at the time. The farm was surrounded by 200 acres of CRP which held a few wild pheasants and we kept both Homers as well as quail for all of their entertainment.

She was quite a pistol as a puppy but when I saw her pointing quail with incredible intensity a couple weeks after arriving all sins were forgiven. From there on out it was "Hail to the Queen" for the next decade as we traveled the western plains states.

Molly in the shadow of the Big Horn mountains Montana

Molly grew into life with her pack quickly putting the males on notice of her standing. Always eager to please she was just a real pleasure to live and hunt with....As long as she got to go on every run! Out of the 3 setters she had the most prey drive by far and saved us from losing many many birds with some incredible long retrieves. After a while the males just got out of her way and let her do her job in that way.

Molly, Beau and Mick on a fall afternoon at the farm. It was a wonderful place for them to grow up.

Beau and Molly worked exceptionally well together over the years. He could cover ground and she was fast as lightning never encroaching on another dog's point but stopping on a dime. I'd be walking in the field and if she saw me stop she'd back me until she saw me move again! Beau and Molly were very very close. He watched over her and always went outside whenever she did. Always. After she passed he walked around the house over and over during the night then would ask to go out only to come back in after a couple minutes. I'm sure checking to see where she was.

I knew the carefree days of sitting in the sun with her on the back porch were coming to an end but we really really had quite a life together as a pack. These dogs changed my life and took me on an incredible journey. A dog like Molly makes you want to just keep walking into the wind. Forever. I truly loved her for that and for everything she taught me. Love Creeks Molly. Sweet sweet Molly.

Sweet Sweet Molly

The Back Side of May

It seems like it took forever at times. A long cold winter then a back and forth battle between seasons before winter finally gave way to a new growing season. Young goslings are visible now paddling about and feeding under watchful eyes. The Setters take it all in as we watch the world come to life. Sitting on the front lawn is a daily ritual now. I watch their noses constantly twitching as they survey the scents coming by on the wind. It's a parallel world we can only speculate about but to them it's very real. I wonder what spring is like through their noses.

Increasingly Mick and Molly are indifferent about going on walks. They let Beau go solo with me most of the time now. Their bodies tell them it's best. Stay quiet. Relax. Sleep away the afternoons. I worry about their maladies. The bumps which are tumors. So many of them now. Like time bombs. There's nothing to be done at this stage except keep them comfortable and enjoy these carefree days. Mick and Beau stick very close to me. People will try to tell you scientifically dog's are given to much credit for their real understanding and comprehension of our world as we see it. They are animals that really just live in the moment concerned with satisfying basic needs. Nothing more or less. I say there are people exactly like that and even more one dimensional. Less compassionate,understanding, and without empathy. In my reality I see the world differently and for those that discount a dog's life I'm not surprised you can't see what I see or feel what I feel. It's yet another parallel world. One I choose to live in and a place I'm most happy to be.

I've been up to the lake several times this spring loading up the Setters with everyone in their favorite places. They're glad to ride along. I open the windows and stop to let them see roosters alongside the road and in the ditches staking out their territory. It's fun to see the moment they focus on the birds. Ears go up and they extend their necks to catch a glimpse before the wily birds sneak away in the grass. We pass by many places we've walked together over the years as we drive along. They worked so hard and covered so much ground. I'm writing not only to share but to help remember as well. I take none of it for granted.

The forecast indicates the season is moving forward. More consistent growing weather ahead. For the Setters time will move faster now. The cycle of life is never interrupted and surely as these seasons come and go I know I will be forever changed as well. So I watch them closely for any sign of a down turn which will surely come. But for now these days are as precious as any we've spent. I observe their nuances and appreciate each of their distinct personalities in this time I call " The Back Side of May".

Central Plains Upland Forecast Spring 2015

Every spring upland hunters watch the weather with hopes of a better hatch and a return to the days when bird populations made us think the good old days would never end. My friend to the south 100 miles recently sent me his forecast.

Arlan: Glad to hear all is well in rural North Dakota. We had an open winter which I think helped a lot with what seems like a robust pheasant and duck nesting crop. The trick is finding some cover to nest in. But things are looking up as I heard Monsanto came up with a Pheasant that nests on gravel roads and cut soybean fields and is a prolific breeder as long as you spray them with Roundup at least twice a year. I'm loading up on Monsanto stock. Hope to get out and do a little fishing but first me and my friends at Monsanto have to try to get rid of some wormwood which is taking over my tree rows. Go Monsanto!

 

The Bittersweet Season

 For the past decade the setters and I have spent the majority of each year in anticipation of the sharptail grouse season in September. The first weeks of those seasons hold some of the most cherished memories of our time together in the field . Covey's holding tight for the setters with their silken hair blowing in the wind waiting for me to walk in to flush bird after bird. It was often common place to count 100 birds or more each day walking mile after mile waiting for the perfect points to fill our game bag. There are specific points and flushes over the years so perfect they are forever burned in my memory. In fact I admit to going back to the same spots just hoping to experience such perfection just one more time. But I'm afraid it's like wishing you could have one more day with someone you loved after they've passed on. Time stands still for nothing as they say.

The setters came into this season at age 11 turning 12 starting with Mick in October followed by Beau in January and then Molly the following June. I had run Beau frequently the prior season of 2013 because he just didn't seem to be affected by his age. It was really an incredible thing to observe. Of course I was grateful knowing we were well beyond that time most bird dogs of his size and days in the field lived to hunt another day let alone doing it without missing a beat. Because I love to cover a lot of ground hunting the big hills and open spaces Beau and I had spent day after day together that year.  However the clock was ticking and I knew it all to well. I had saved the close cover and easy walking for Mick and Molly during that season. They were grateful for every minute as we enjoyed each others company.

Knowing we were all a year older as September 2014 approached I tried to adjust my expectations for this season I knew was a gift beyond anything else. Still together day to day. Doing exactly what I dreamed about  while working a job for the better part of 30 years. Living and hunting with a trio of beautiful bird dogs.  Then the season of 2014 was finally here and I knew exactly what run I wanted to take Beau on. It was 2 miles of beautiful rolling hill pasture with deep bowls and hill sides sharptail love for protection from the wind and high points they use with incredible skill to survey their domain keeping them safe from approaching hunters and their capable bird dogs. From our starting point it was a 3/4 mile walk uphill into what I knew to be some of the best sharptail cover around. On this day we would have to circle around to come back into the wind heading west as we traversed the hills. We hadn't gone a quarter mile when I noticed first of all that the casts Beau was making were much shorter than normal. He's a tall lanky setter that just cruises the cover with head held high making him a great sharptail hunter often pointing at great distances. He'd come around and stop for just a minute looking at me before continuing on making sure of our direction I expect. It's not unusual in this type of cover for him to get out of my line of sight due to the hills and bowls. I then watched as he disappeared over a rise. I use Garmin tracking collars so I knew exactly where he was at however when I heard him bark I knew he had lost me. Again unusual as he hadn't been that far out and we were in open cover. I walked to the rise and looked out ahead seeing him standing a couple hundred yards out looking about with ears perked up. I called to him but he didn't seem to hear. I waved to him and got the same results. He just didn't seem to know where I was at although I was in plain sight. I just stood there looking at him and my eyes started to water. This is it I thought. The tipping point. In stature still an incredibly beautiful dog I thought as I continued walking toward him calling and waving until he could see and hear me. We had become so very close the last couple years as we spent more time one on one in the field. As I walked I then thought about how deeply I had gotten to know this dog over a period of time and how lucky I was to have actually lived with him. He had repaid me with what I can only describe as an intense loyalty. Also I must add the equivalent of an Ivy League education in handling this very special type of bird dog. Finally after closing more than half the distance between us he started to wag his tail letting me know he had located me. We had barely begun to turn into the wind at this point and my boots felt heavy due to the reality before me becoming clearer with each step forward. Such an incredible dog. So beautiful to watch surfing the wind for scent. What I was watching seemed to have happened so suddenly but was actually years in the making. The process of aging. Declining stamina and failing senses. It was an extremely difficult moment knowing we had finally crossed that line in time when there's no turning back.

Eventually we got into scent and found birds. Then there would be moments when all was right with our world once again. Sharptail are not commonly pursued by aging hunters and their old dogs. It's a game best enjoyed on a more level field of abilities. But the dance is one so beautiful as it unfolds between the players that it's hard to know when to stop and be content with your memories.

The Bittersweet Season

Over the weeks ahead I came to terms with the effects of time and became optimistic once again as I accepted who we were. Shooting birds for each setter. Hunting the best parts of the day. Stopping and just enjoying our time. This time that I had worked so hard for. This time that was now ours to enjoy in this "Bittersweet season".

For The Birds Along The Way

It's April 2015 and this will be our 6th year in this rural community within what's referred to as the German triangle of North Dakota an area largely settled by Germans from Russia. It's strictly farm and ranch country and insulated from any other opportunity for development in that way. When once asked about where I thought a hunter should ideally locate I replied "Find an area with the unlikely probability of any future development that happens to have favorable game bird habitat!" That pretty much sums up where I currently call home.

With a county population under 2000 people it takes a lot of cooperation and teamwork to support local clubs and causes. The same people donate countless hours to civic organizations like I've never seen. But that's the magic that makes their communities work and continue to be great places to experience the benefits of the small town rural lifestyle. It's easy to poke fun at these communities and the people but just read the national news headlines on any given day and it's not hard to understand why multiple generations choose to live and raise families in areas like this.

In April every year the local chapter of Pheasants Forever holds their annual fundraising banquet and auction. They generate funds for local habitat projects through memberships,sponsor donations and of course they're annual auction. I have never been a club type of person although I've been a member of various organizations over the year's. The main reasons for this being available time and an aversion to meetings! During my career I basically made a living attending meetings of one type or another with most of them being expensive colossal wastes of time for the organization for which I worked. These were mostly meant to be download sessions or intimidation exercises to shame the masses into improved performance! So in my retirement being all the wiser after decades in the business world meeting culture I simply cannot find it within myself to be an active member of any of these groups no matter what the cause is. I've been forever ruined for the type of service and compliance they require. But when I hear of a good controversy or argument made public at one of these civic meetings my ears perk up. You see I've learned decisions always arise out of conflict and right or wrong the agendas will never move along without them!

So the question for me was how do I support the organization my interests as an upland hunter are most closely aligned with? It's not only the organization itself but the actual people who donate countless hours of their time. Many of them happen to also be landowners who graciously allow me to hunt on their land. I've got enough gear to last a lifetime and then some so being an auction buyer doesn't make sense. In fact I dream of someday only having those possessions I can load into a pick up truck along with my bird dogs! I tried being an active member for a while but as I've related it's not my forte. The schedule of events and operations of a local club are pretty straight forward and don't change or require a lot of input. That's fine really. It also makes sense that landowner relations and habitat opportunities be handled and initiated by local people they already are familiar with. Maybe being involved on a different level might make sense but the simple facts are I'm just a pointing dog man at heart. My main objective is to have my boots on the ground walking behind my bird dogs! So then how do I show solidarity to the cause?

Well I hadn't lived here very long before word got around about my pie baking talents. With many many great cooks within this Russian German community that's something that they valued. One of the more creative members of the club then asked me if I'd consider making pies for the spring auction. Of course I said lets try it and we were off and running! Right up my alley. Creative,independent, and somewhat unconventional with no meetings required! It became over a period of the next few years a great novelty everyone looked forward to at this event attended by a few hundred people each year. People enjoyed just looking at the pies on display and would marvel at what they'd bring at auction. It was common for them to go for 25 to 75 dollars each. All for a great cause and an enjoyable way for me to show my support " For the birds along the way!"

"For The Birds Along The Way"

Shed No Tears

                                       It's spring 2015. The setters and I have been gone from the rolling farm country of Wisconsin since 2009. Our time there served it's purpose providing the preparation in many ways for our exodus to bird country. A secluded rural property was a perfect environment for raising pups.

                                       Over the course of 30 years as you would expect an area as beautiful as the driftless area of Wisconsin continued to be discovered for what it was. One of the most desirable places to live in rural America. Not far from population centers you were quickly in the wooded hills and valleys largely occupied by family owned dairy operations. No trespassing signs were a rarity in the seventies and eighties. You could experience excellent trout fishing and grouse hunting walking mile after mile crossing fences without much interference except maybe from a Holstein bull on occasion. A foe most certainly to not be underestimated. The deer herd had years earlier moved to this part of the state and flourished in the rich farmland country.
                                       In the early fall of 1981 my friend Peter and I walked back to the valley behind my property a half mile and had a wonderful grouse hunt walking the hillsides of the Love Creek valley. This was a classic section of grazed wooded pasture with thickets of brush and cover in between open areas under a canopy of mixed hardwoods. Peter loved those hills and spent most of his time with fly rod or his Ithaca 20 gauge in hand . His English setter was a constant companion. We cleaned the birds that day out behind the old barn at my place as we talked about dogs and grouse hunting. Peter shot 5 birds to my 2. Boy he was quick with that Ithaca!

The Love Creek Valley

                                      As interest rates eased during this time the migration into the hills and valleys by urban pioneers became more prevalent. Some with more money than others built on the hills so everyone could see their vision of beauty. These places became like the acne of the countryside and it spread from one valley to the next and from one ridge top to the next as family farms were sold off and divided. During this time the number of dairy farms in the state plummeted as the latest generation looked to the future and cashed in their chips while they could.

                                     What followed was no surprise. With each farm that was divided new signs went up. No Trespassing! Keep Out! No Fishing! No Hunting! "This is my 10 acres!" "This is my 40 Acres!" And so and so on. And "No you can't pick mushrooms either" people would say if you asked. No! No! No! Who the hell were these people I thought. City people moved to the countryside was the answer. A plague of sorts had come to the driftless area forever changing the landscape and the personality of the countryside.

                                     Depending on how you chose to enjoy your time outdoors determined I suppose how you viewed this transition and new reality. For a pointing dog man longing to walk mile after mile with his bird dog's it was no place to live. A place to seek refuge from time to time maybe but certainly not a place to confine a crew of beautiful animals bred to pursue every species of upland birds. As sportsman no matter what our passion we all dream of someday living within the ideal environment for our sport. The day we decide to follow our instincts and cross over the line making our passion a way of life is our day of reckoning. Some of us cross over and some of us continue to dream content with memories of our times in the field. Each side of the line has it's risks and rewards with either choice being right or wrong a deeply personal question.

                                     On a recent trip back to Wisconsin the setters and I drove through some of the territory reminding me of the early days before the wholesale transformation of the states dairy farm country.
When it was time to turn west and head for the high plains we now call home it felt good to have my back to the past. I'm glad for the days we were there and the great times we had but I "Shed No Tears" as we turned off the interstate and crossed over into bird country once again.

Back in bird country once again.

To Wave Or Not To Wave

                          My story about living in bird country wouldn't be complete without touching on the subject of etiquette in the field. One facet in particular on this subject is the custom of waving a friendly acknowledgement to passing vehicles as you come upon each other while driving down the rural farm to market,section line, and secondary roads. Over the years I have passed many hunters as I travel these roads which bring us all into the heart of bird country each fall. It's no surprise that we're not alone. We all share the same passion although each of us has our own style and strategy for enjoying the sport.

What we all do not share is good manners! As time passes I come across more and more hunters that find it acceptable to ignore an opportunity to signal a hello with a friendly wave and smile or maybe even stop to chat about the hunt. The license plates of these vehicles are from a variety of states with some even being local. The indifference and unfriendly nature of these hunters can be born out of a variety of frustrations and feelings. In my view there are no excuses. Treat others as you expect to be treated is how I was raised in a small mid western town. That lesson has served me well in and out of the field. I have shared many experiences with other hunters and met many good people along the way.The only thing that can ensure having great days in the field is a positive attitude starting with accepting that only you are responsible for your success or failure to do so.

Treating others with a friendly and positive attitude has it's rewards!

I'll share a story now about one of those conversations I had on a rural secondary road several years ago. My hunting partner and I were in southwestern Kansas in January on our last trip of the season. We had tried to find a way to access a remote section of river bed we were hoping held some coveys of bob white quail. Looking at our map we just couldn't seem to find access without running into posted land from every direction. So puzzled by this we decided to hunt a walk in area for pheasants on this morning with temperatures in the single digits but with lots of clear blue Kansas sky! Before we got to far in I spotted a red ranch truck coming our way. I yelled to Tom to head towards the road so we could talk to this guy as in these rural areas in the winter there's just not many folks around. We waved the truck down and walked over to the driver. He asked what the heck we thought we were doing out in such weather! The next thing he said was to my partner Tom " Hand me your gun" We thought now where is this going? Turns out Dave as we learned was fond of guns and knew Tom was carrying a nice Sterlingworth double at the time. He then gave us permission to cross his property to access the river bottom we were looking to hunt. He also said we could hunt the wheat stubble to the east of where we currently were if we wanted to take a chance that his wife wouldn't shoot us as she's mighty fond of the quail that feed in that field as they hang around the yard in the winter month's! Then before he drove off to bust holes in the ice on water tanks for his cattle he invited us to stop back at his house to let him know how we did. Tom was relieved to have gotten his gun back and we laughed about being introduced to Kansas hospitality. Dave later shared that based on his first impressions in talking to us that he respected us as serious hunters and appreciated that we took the time to talk with him and asked about permission to hunt.

That chance meeting happened to be with the owner of 10,000 contiguous acres of land. It made our trip a great experience and we learned many things about the area we would have otherwise struggled with. In fact that meeting turned into a friendship we will always remember. Dave and his wife Shirley invited us into their home on many occasions over the year's for lunch and supper even offering to freeze our birds for us. And it all started with a friendly wave and conversation!

I have learned much about bird hunting and bird dog's over time but most importantly will tell you that you can read all you want to educate yourself. Fill your head with data, harvest statistics and species characteristics. But most of what is really beneficial about any area you will ever hunt or any dog you will ever hunt with  is transferred from one person to another. Face to face. But this information isn't just given freely. You can't demand it and can't buy it. The holder or keeper decides if you're worthy of receiving it. How do they decide? It has everything to do with your attitude and respect for other people. Indifference and arrogance will never get you through the gate!

So my advice is simple and my message short. It all starts with an attitude and decision. "To Wave Or Not To Wave".

                          

A Molly Monday Morning

                                 By early October we'd been grouse hunting for a few weeks in warmer than normal temperatures this year. You then pick and choose the days and times you head for the field based on conditions your dog's can tolerate. With my trio of aging Setter's I have to be especially careful to not let them over heat in the warm weather. As for bird populations this year there's not enough birds for a truckload of hunter's to enjoy shooting like it used to be but for a retired bird hunter and his aging bird dog's there's enough to satisfy an old dog's desire to work one more bird.

Molly had been retired from active duty for a couple season's now but I still work these old dog's in the field letting them hunt at their own pace on walks they can easily handle. Just because they can't cover ground like they used to doesn't mean they've lost the desire or ability to find birds so I owe them these times as pay back for all the miles they covered for me in the past when they were in their prime. After all I need the exercise as much as they do!

We all grow old people and dog's alike. Life changes. But we can still enjoy it and everything around us just in a little different way. I've learned a little from seeing the Setter's grow old in that accepting and embracing the stages of life enables you to keep enjoying it versus spending your days lamenting times gone by. What a waste that is really. Life is and always will be about now. About the moment.

The rotation for the morning hunt was for Molly to spend some time with me on this day. It was sunny and clear just one of those mornings that make you want to be outside. The Setter's keep track of who's turn it is I swear. So when I started to get dressed Molly kept an eye on me and when I reached for my boots she made her move putting her nose right in my face as if to say "Please don't leave without me!" She kept nuzzling me as I struggled to lace my boots knowing what "boots" mean. Next step after getting on my gear was to put a collar on the dog fortunate enough to get to go along. Molly sat right in front of me offering up her head to receive the collar as I slipped it over her ears. Of course Beau and Mick also then took the stance but I told them "You stay" and they reluctantly surrendered they're lobbying knowing it was Molly's day. The next task was to get out of the house. You see there's always that heart wrenching final effort of the pups to try to go along even though they've been told to stay today. But I know they'll be asleep on the couch minutes after Molly and I leave dreaming away so I don't feel to bad. Besides I don't know many bird dog's that lead the kind of life they do!

Molly has always been a joy to be around. She knows the routines well and obediently loads up into the Jeep. She takes the back seat her normal spot but I encourage her to take shotgun beside me as this is our time I say to her as she gives me her look of approval as I help her into position in the front seat. Off we go down the street out of town as she sits proudly riding shotgun on this beautiful morning. I crack the window a little giving her the fresh air and a little breeze as we drive the ten miles or so to our run.

We turn off the main road and hit gravel which gets her attention. It never ceases to amaze me how keenly the Setter's use associative behavior skills to identify what's happening. It's fun to observe. A couple more miles and we turn into a dirt road and soon find a spot to pull off to the side. We're here. My plan is to take a walk along this old trail with ditches filled with cattails then walk uphill along a waterway through an adjacent pasture. All easy walking for Molly giving her a chance to enjoy the feeling of once again walking with me in the field. And if we see a bird or two that would make it all the better.

It was just beautiful out with no wind at all and temperatures in the upper 40's as we proceeded walking down the path. There were ducks on the water to our right and sounds of geese flying over head. With no one else to be seen we walked together with Molly working her nose into the cover for about a 100 yards. I had been looking to the south east at some cover on an adjacent hill side thinking about prospects for another day as this is an area I hunt quite often. When I turned back to Molly ahead of me 30 yards she was froze! Rock solid on point with the most intense look on her face looking into the brush and grass to the left side of the path. What have we here I thought as I cautiously approached. Closer and closer I came until I was right there. I walked right in and kicked ahead of me when a beautiful rooster cackled his way into the air flying straight north. I quickly fired before he could veer off to the right into the heavy grass ahead and he fell hard just on the other side of the fence in the open pasture to the west. Molly made her way over inspecting the rooster lying still in the grass as I made my way under the fence. She laid down then panting to catch her breath as I came upon her and knelt down to pick up the bird and compliment her on a job well done.

It was a beautiful moment that meant so much to an aging bird dog to once again take in the scent of a wild rooster in the early morning sun on this October day. We walked on for an hour or so through the pasture stopping frequently for Molly to catch her breath. Occasionally she'd cast out farther than usual and quicken her pace when the cover looked more promising but eventually she'd have to stop again to catch her breath. I just enjoyed watching her knowing her desire to hunt would never go away. We stopped on the way back to the Jeep as we rested for a while. I then took the bird out for her laying it on the ground between us as an unspoken tribute to our time together on this beautiful " Molly Monday Morning".

The Old Boar's Club

                           In rural America there exists in virtually every town an entity as vital to these communities as any other institution you can think of bar none. They are the rural farmer cooperatives or co-ops for short. They are the farm and ranch source for everything to do with agribusiness. As production capability on the farm and ranch has grown so have these co-ops in terms of the products and services they offer.With annual sales in the millions of dollars some things surely have changed dramatically for the co-ops but nothing will ever change the colorful and at times comical personality of their clientele. The character of these places will be forever rural, plain, and simple. At least on the surface.

Every fall I have the oil changed in my two vehicles putting in lighter weight oil for the cold winter month's. Usually I wait until it really starts to get cold which this year was the first week of November when the weather turned on a dime from unseasonably warm to well just plain cold. I learned fairly quickly that if a person wanted to get their oil changed at the co-op it required an appointment a few days in advance of when it would actually get done. This puzzled me when I went in the first couple of times and was directed to the shop foreman an easy going likeable guy that never seemed to be in a hurry despite the activity going on around the shop. When I asked when I could get my oil changed he looked down at a mostly empty schedule and said how about Tuesday afternoon? This was Thursday. Ok I guess was my reply. As I looked around the shop I noticed a guy I knew that lived across the alley from me that I was aware had a cognitive disability. Gary would be called retarded by most folks. He kept walking around in and out of the shop not really doing anything but appearing to have something important on his mind. I later learned from my neighbor that Gary's uncle Roy used to manage the co-op and allowed Gary to come to the Co-op everyday and allowed him to make the coffee and take out the garbage in exchange for having someplace to go where he felt a part of something. Everybody liked this guy and he knew everyone that came in the door obviously as they kidded him in some way. Gary couldn't really talk clearly so you never knew what exactly he was trying to say but it was meant to be friendly you could tell. This all had been going on for 40 or 50 year's I suppose. As I was leaving through the front of the store I also had to walk by a row of 6 vinyl chairs with chrome arms connected together like a row of movie seats that directly faced the counter as folks came through the front door. These were filled with older gentleman I recognized from around town mostly in their mid 70's to early 80's I'd say. One of them was usually asleep but they all had cups of coffee and would acknowledge everyone that came in the door and start up conversation about one thing or another. I again had asked my neighbor what the deal was with these guys always being at the co-op and he explained in a short sentence." The coffee's free".

After a couple year's of doing business at the co-op for small hardware needs and gasoline I became pretty familiar with the character of this place. Everything you do in a sparsely populated county and small town is made into a social opportunity you see. I was still impatient with the ritual of appointments well in advance of oil changes until one cold winter day my Jeep battery had obviously worn out. I checked the date on the battery and sure enough I was past due for a new one. I called Cal the shop foreman at the co-op to check if he had one that would fit and he said yes. Would you like me to bring it over? I was surprised that he offered but said sure I'd really appreciate that. So 10 minutes later he pulled up with a helper and also pulled the old one out and replaced it with the new battery. No charge for the service! I went back down to settle up shortly thereafter and again thanked him for helping me out. I got the same laid back response I always got but after that I guess it sunk in that there is a way things get done here and you're never going to change it so accept it and plan accordingly! Which I have. I even got to know the "Old Boar's" as I referred to them those being the old timer's that filled the seats every morning and afternoon drinking free coffee till their eye balls float. As for Gary the coffee maker I appreciated how a business and a community takes care of people like this allowing them to be a part of the everyday routine like anybody else.

The last couple year's have seen some "Old Boar's" pass the torch. One being a neighbor a block away and another a nice guy that always taught gun safety to the kids every year. But as new Boar's retire from their jobs or farming careers they quickly fill the open spots. The daily ritual continues sparked by free coffee and a constant flow of people in and out the door giving them an endless list of subjects to analyze and information to absorb and dispense. Anyone that ever said women like to talk and gossip didn't have it right! Men have far more ability to run off at the mouth just to hear themselves talk than any woman I have ever met or known! And the one thing that is like throwing gas on the fire with the "Old Boar's" is free coffee!!

Well back to my annual fall oil changes. I went in to talk to the shop foreman in person because remember it's all about socializing right? "When could I get my Jeep's oil changed?" I asked. He looked at the schedule that didn't have anything on it I could see and surprisingly said "How about this afternoon?" "Great. Why don't you come at 2 o'clock then." He said. Before I left I mentioned that I also needed to get the van's oil changed but that could wait not wanting to appear to demanding. Again I got a surprise when he said "We could do that tomorrow if you want". As I drove home I thought this is like a break through! I seem to be moving up a notch on the priority list here. But what this meant was that I'd have to hang around the co-op two days in a row while my oil was being changed which takes a little more than an hour because that's the way they do it you see. So if you haven't guessed it also meant I'd have to sit with the "Old Boar's" two days in a row for afternoon coffee!!

Day one. I arrive at the set time after driving into the garage and head for the waiting area. The co-op expanded and remodeled their office area this year so the movie seats the Old Boar's used were now moved into what served as a waiting area for shop customers as well as a miscellaneous storage area. It was empty when I walked in but within a few minutes one of the Boar's walked in saying hello and taking a seat with his coffee. I've known Carl since I moved here. He's a friendly guy about 5'5 and pretty thin, kind of fidgety, and maybe one of those people that can't stand being quiet! There was a bag of cake donuts maybe 50 or so on top of a small freezer and Carl said " I wonder if Gary's gonna "Put out" those donuts?" "Don't know" I replied. He then fired the usual questions at me like how was I. What had I been doing and what was I doing here today. You see he had to have some basis for further questioning! It wasn't long after that that Harold walked in yet another club member. He sat down with his coffee after saying Hello to me and then asked. 'Is Gary gonna put out those donuts? Carl said. "Well I was just wondering the same thing." Harold's a nice guy and I know he love's to fish so I asked him how the ice fishing was going and we talked around that for a few minutes while Carl fidgeted. Then Carl's brother,another member, walked in and went right for the donuts opened the bag picked up a donut took a bite and turned around saying. "Anybody want a donut?" They all know I bird hunt full time so the question of how I'd been doing came up. I'm not naive about where any information I might give them would go or be shared with whom so my usual answer of it's been ok I guess not quite as good as last year but if a guy hunts hard enough..... They of course would of loved some hard numbers as to how many birds I shot but I never ever ever tell that to anybody. Truth be told I don't count anyway but some do and then tell about it usually when they've been drinking if you know what I mean.

Day Two. I brought the Van down and drove it in explaining to the shop foreman I had my own oil as I always put in synthetic Mobil One. On I went then to the waiting area. Here sat a room full of the Boar's all with Coffee and Donuts! Carl looked up surprised and said. "So what's wrong today now?" Having seen me here yesterday. "Another oil change." I said. Then his brother came in right after me and looked at me and said. " Well you must be really bored if you're back down here today with us!" " Another oil change" I said." Oh well you can get a cup of coffee if you want it's right out there at the counter" So I sat down in the midst of a full meeting of the afternoon "Boar's Club" listening to topics like who complained the most when they paid their taxes or that the farm bill is actually included in the welfare budget! That was a hoot especially since we were at the farmers co-op drinking free coffee! And then there was quite a discussion on how much profit the guy at the convenience store makes on a gallon of gas. Not to be left out were a couple of anecdotal stories about some wealthy local people who made a fuss over their tax assessments. "It's the ones with the most that always complain the loudest" Somebody said. And a story about a guy who got really upset the other day and almost started crying because another guy yelled at him for repeatedly having to check the cards to make sure the score was correct while playing Pinochle!! I knew all the people that were the subjects of conversation and just marveled at the routines these guys have. I thought I know why they're down here or sitting around playing cards all day. They're wives won't allow them to hang around the house!

Luckily when I got up to check on my van it was just being pulled out of the garage. Windows cleaned interior vacuumed and fresh oil. All was good with my world but the real bonus was a further glimpse into this tight knit German culture. I enjoyed the story telling and the joking. Like they say you can't make this stuff up! The "Old Boar's Club" that is.



 

Beau's Nose

                                       The third week of October found me headed back to a familiar area in search of a population of sharptail grouse. As I've written before this area was one I'd frequented in past year's and always was sure to hold several coveys of grouse most times of the year. But over time land use shifted then winters and cold spring hatching weather took their toll on bird populations. I then found other areas closer to home where I could find birds. With the Setter's aging this season I found myself enjoying going back to these old haunts trying to find the magic we once experienced as we put on mile after mile traversing these beautiful hills over the last decade.

 On this run the Setter's and I pulled into a hay field to park south of the old Honey Hole. My plan was to hunt a 2 square mile area of cover featuring hills, sloughs, pot holes and some fields of corn stubble. When land use shifts so does the behavior pattern of the birds making it a daunting task especially with sharptail to determine where they've decided to set up house keeping in this big open country. Just because they no longer are where you used to find them doesn't mean they're gone. They've been in North Dakota for hundreds of year's, are built for the cold winter's, and for the hunter willing to work hard enough they can prove to be a serious challenge for the best of shooters as well as pointing dog's.

The objective today was to locate the population of birds within this large area of diverse cover. I knew they were here and in good numbers no doubt but before I found out exactly where I'd have to do some walking. My boots hit the ground mid afternoon on this day with partly cloudy skies and temperatures in the 40's. I'd spent the morning to the east walking the edges of some soy bean fields with all 3 Setter's on the ground. We'd picked up 2 sharptail on a beautiful point with Beau leading and Molly and Mick honoring in some dark green weedy vegetation on the edge of a bean field. I had missed another opportunity on a point by Molly as we walked a section line road next to a wheat stubble field. So Mick and Molly were played out leaving this run for Beau and myself to close out a beautiful day in the field.

I had a pretty good idea of where the birds I was looking for were feeding which was at the back of this run to the south along the corn stubble at the crest of a hill where the field met the grass. But in order to get there I had to walk around several pot holes not always in the direction I wanted to go as I made my way around this maze of water obstacles. Truth be told they could be anywhere but I was betting on the food source being the key. If we pushed birds out of the stubble we had a pretty good chance of working them within this area on the way back to the Jeep. Beau was really in his element here surfing the cover and casting back and forth at will. He's big, lanky, and loves to open up and cruise the wind making him a perfect dog to hunt sharptail with or any bird for that matter but I always love to see him set a covey of sharptail at a distance with his head held high in the wind. That's why after already putting on a few miles this morning I couldn't go home without looking for these birds on this afternoon.

Beau head up and nose into the wind. Birds ahead!

We'd been at it for about an hour and a half. Beau had worked some birds that had been moving in some heavy grass most likely pheasants but we'd yet to get anything to hold. This season I'd watched many times as the Setter's just couldn't get out ahead of running birds to cut off they're advances. It was bittersweet watching knowing they knew what to do but just couldn't get it done anymore. Beau was doing his best casting in circles in one particular area for a while but to no avail. We'd come to the crest of several high points perfect for sharptail but had not seen them either. So we crested another hill about halfway to the corn stubble and descended towards an oblong group of cattails about a 150 yards long and 40 yards wide. It was fairly close to a large pot hole and about a third of a mile from the corn stubble. I then had a feeling of dejavu as we approached. Once working around the cattails I remembered. We had run this area last year around the same time and I had missed a clear shot at a  rooster flying across these very cattails. With Beau.
So at attention I watched as Beau worked around the perimeter of this cover. About halfway around he stopped and with nose to the ground began wagging his tail. This means "Hey! There was a bird right here just a couple seconds ago!" When he gets his nose down it also means I had better keep up because the birds running and could fly any second. So with this feeling of dejavu hovering over me I hurried along keeping sight of Beau along the cattails. Then suddenly he pulled up and froze! In the next instant up comes a rooster rising like a 747 above the cattails moving right to left. I shouldered my gun and picked a spot just ahead of the rooster pulling the trigger all in one fluid motion. I was surprised actually to see the bird go down hard in the thick of the cover having squandered the very same shot last year. I stood for a couple moments marking the spot before calling Beau to come around. 35 yards ahead I started to look down around me and there he was in front of me exactly as I had marked the shot. I knelt down to pick him up as Beau stuck his nose in to inspect the bird now in hand as if to give his approval.

We continued on for a quarter mile when I realized there was another water obstacle between us and the corn stubble not visible from the start of our run. I was unable now after all this walking to get to where I wanted to go so logging the route we'd need to take next time as I looked around we started circling back. We'd gone another few hundred yards when I spotted a pair of sharptail flying high back toward the Jeep. When I looked to the west to see where they might have come from my eyes went right to the edge of the corn stubble we couldn't reach as a group of a couple dozen sharptail started flushing and following the same flight path as the birds I had just seen. I just stood there and watched as they floated to the east trying to see where they set down. I lost them as they floated over the highest point in this 2 square mile area. My best guess was that this was not a coincidence but where they commuted back and forth from the food source. My legs were now starting to burn with fatigue every time we'd go uphill or meet resistance in heavy cover. Beau's casts were getting shorter so we stopped for a few minutes to catch our breath and think about how to approach the area I thought might get us on top of those sharptail.

Taking a break on the prairie with Beau

Once I picked a line for approach we still had to go up and down a few steep hills to get to where I had in mind. The leeward side of this big hill. This is the side tucked out of the wind offering protection to the birds and probably where they planned to roost for the night. It was going on 5 o'clock now with the sun getting noticeably lower in the sky. With possibly the best opportunity of the day ahead in the grassy slopes of this big hill I was now struggling to put one foot in front of the other! I was finally there and at a point where I had to decide to go around the hill and approach from the south, go straight ahead to the top and down or straight ahead slightly to the north and side of the hill. I had no other choice than to continue on the line I was on because I was simply exhausted. We moved forward at a point 2/3 of the way from the peak of the hill betting the birds were at the spot just where the hill started to flatten. Beau worked the area getting birdy as I noted spots with scat where the birds had spent the night so I was hopeful I had made the right call. However after working the whole area to the south east of that peak we found no birds so I worked Beau back up to higher ground again. We didn't get 50 yards when the whole group started flushing a few at a time from a point 1/3 of the way down from the top of that hill. It was a beautiful sight as they all flew to the east and north. I had missed the spot by just a hundred yards or so and they'd undoubtedly watched us the whole time from their vantage point.

Beau dreaming of sharptail grouse while napping in the afternoon sun

I felt good knowing they were still there and I gained a little more respect for these birds and the places they call home. One foot ahead of the other I made my way painfully back to the Jeep with Beau not giving up but working every edge as we moved forward. Mick and Molly spotted us a few hundred yards out and started their welcome by barking and yipping as we approached. We'd accomplished our objective of finding the sharptail again and I'd gotten a second chance at a rooster flying across that slough I'd missed last year owing it of course once again to "Beau's Nose".

Just Like Old Times

                       It had been about a week since Beau had made a turn around eating as much as I would put in front of him now. What a relief to see this dog come around one more time. However not knowing how long this recovery would last at age 12 I had decided to start letting him back in the field. Now with him still recovering all 3 Setter's moved at about the same pace with Beau always pushing the lead of course. So I'd pick appropriate cover for them to work without much resistance hoping to corner some birds and get everybody out in the fresh air again. Together.

On this overcast day in November my plan was to run across a bean stubble field that had several rock piles, small depressions with cattails, and weedy cover. At the north end a mile and a half away there was also a nice narrow waterway we'd walk before turning west for a while and then back south along a fence line ending back towards the Jeep. Most hunters would look at this route and scratch their heads about walking across a bean stubble field that looked pretty bare but my advantage living here and hunting this area throughout the season as it changes is that I know the birds patterns. All the out of state hunters hunt along a waterfowl production area bordering the big lake and walk down the section line adjacent hunting the ditches. Well it doesn't take the birds very many times being repeatedly flushed out of those areas to adopt alternate plans!

You have to also know I'm looking for a perfect moment. A beautiful picture and experience not just an opportunity to empty my gun of super magnum shells at a wild rooster as he flushes from the reeds. I want the birds best game on his terms pitted against my willing and beautiful Setters and I'll add my average shooting skills!

Sure enough as we made our way into the bean field here comes two "out a stater's" as the locals call them, dressed in full camo upland hunting after obviously finishing banging away at some ducks this morning. Right on down the old section line road with their flushing dog's in tow. They were coming towards me but I kept walking in their direction for a while until I got to where I turned on this run into the stubble to the north west. They must have been puzzled as to where I was going as I walked across the bare stubble with 3 bird dog's but the field rises and dips so you actually can't see most of the small areas of cover unless you actually walk the field which is the case with a lot of these spots looking at them from the roads. We skirted several of these areas of cover with tracks visible in the snow as we made our way to a spot which had been an old homestead which was now just some brush, bits of old machinery and pieces of the foundation here and there amongst the weeds and grass. The Setter's are experts at identifying cover so as we approached this spot in the field they quickened their pace with Beau in the lead. I followed suit of course. As soon as Beau got to the edge of this cover his head came up as he surfed the wind. This sign was immediately picked up by Mick  and Molly. That was the joy in this hunt today not knowing a week earlier if we'd ever be able to do this together again or not. I'm talking about hunting as a team. Reading each others body language and working together to hunt these birds culminating in a point and a successful shot. As I watched it began to unfold. Beau slowed as he came to the corner. Mick and Molly had caught up stopping one behind the other as Beau became rigid with his head high looking to the west. I was 40 yards behind at this point but closing in fast. Just as I got behind Molly Beau eased up and slowly walked forward followed by the other dog's. The birds had moved . I came around and we all walked through this weedy cover with no birds present. Beau then picked up the scent and trailed it across the stubble 50 yards to the next area of heavy cover in the field which was part of the waterway I mentioned earlier. All 3 Setter's now knew by watching each other and picking up the same scent that we had birds right here! They cautiously moved about when Beau froze looking to the south but Mick and Molly were facing another direction doing the same! What I figured I had was a few birds all in the same area. I walked around with nothing flushing and the Setter's not willing to move. A few more steps and all hell broke loose! First a couple hens then one more then one, two, three more and I was still just waiting. Waiting for the rooster! Sure enough after several seconds of delay here he came just a beauty flushing right in front of Beau going to my right. I quickly dropped him hard and waited cautiously but there were no more as all 3 Setter's converged on the bird.

We continued on but this single moment is exactly what we're out here for. It couldn't have been any better and we got to do it one more time! Together." Just Like Old Times! "

Screeeech!

                    It was early in the sharptail season when Beau and I loaded up the Jeep and headed east to some old haunts we hadn't visited in a few year's. The weather had been pretty warm so far so I chose this cold overcast day to make our way to a run called the Honey Hole in year's past. This is what's called prairie pot hole country. A swath of North Dakota peppered with pot holes of various sizes creating habitat for a variety of species including Grouse and Huns, otherwise known as Hungarian Grey Partridge, which were on our radar today. Amongst the pot holes are rolling hills with plenty of high points favored by grouse as breeding areas or Leks as they're called. Since they use sight as a main defense mechanism these hilly areas are prime habitat when bordered by crop and hay fields which they use to raise their broods.

This section we pulled into on a dirt road I had hunted many times and have written about over the year's. When it was a hayfield with adjacent hills and crops the grouse loved it in the early season. It was the kind of place I'd look at and think I'd just like to hunt that because it's a beautiful place. Truth be told often times those are the eyes through which I view the places I hunt. I want an experience that includes a multitude of factors not just those centered around shooting a "limit"of birds.

The hayfield has been gone now for 5 year's having been rotated to small grains with this year's crop being soybeans. So once harvested there is virtually no cover here except what's available around rock piles and the narrow band of cattails that circle every low spot or slough. There is however a shelter belt that was planted in an L shape running the entire east side about a 1/3 of a mile with a mix of cedar trees and bushes. This shelter belt is what I had in mind being just about 5 feet tall now it offered some nice cover right next to a food source. Plus I just wanted to put my boots on the ground here once again walking along thinking about those days when everything seemed to be just right. The setting. The habitat. The bird population. And my beautiful Setter's in their early year's full of life and desire to hunt creating beautiful scenes almost surreal at times as they cast about in the alfalfa then suddenly all together coming to a point in the open cover strung out in a line.

We parked on the north end of the shelter belt a half mile off the road and planned to work south up and back. Beau was ready to stretch his legs so I let him out and got myself set up for our run. There are also Huns or Partridge that use this area along with Pheasants so while I was hoping to have sharptail for supper we also were scouting to see what kind of other birds were around. The Pheasant season opener was still 3 weeks away at this point but Huns were fair game just hard to come by.

As we walked the shelter belt on the east side the cover looked great with a strip of alfalfa separating the other half. A light rain had started and I was hoping this cover would hold some birds given the weather. Beau was casting in and out between the rows and since I use a Garmin GPS collar on my Setters I'm never worried about losing sight of him. He rarely will bump a bird anyway as he's very very careful not to push a bird once he reads scent on the wind. As I walked along he disappeared for a few moments as we crested a slight rise in the terrain. I looked out ahead and couldn't find him so I pulled out my Garmin which told me he was ahead about 50 Yards south slightly to my left on point! With my eyes focused in that direction I quickened my pace or as my friend Dennis calls it made a "surge" ahead. As I came closer I caught sight of him turned in a kind of twist and looking right under a cedar tree. This was getting exciting I thought and as I decided on my approach I thought possibly a pheasant or a covey of Huns with Grouse being my last expectation with the bird having held so long already. I went ahead on the opposite side of the tree from Beau knowing it was a toss up anyway. I stomped in and nothing happened. I turned around 360' at the ready when it happened. A flutter of wings and "screeching" with a dozen or so Huns splitting into 2 groups as they flew one forward arcing to the right and the other to the left and behind me. I chose the leading bird on the forward advancing group missing twice! Beau had held all through this obviously with his nose right on the covey under that cedar tree. You would think it was an easy shot but I tell you more times than not these small birds are very hard to get an advantage on. But what a beautiful sight in different shades of red and brown.

We saw no other birds in the shelter belt and as we walked to the end a truck came off the road I identified as the local federal warden obviously in the area because a waterfowl production hunting area borders this run to the south. I came out to the road and talked with him for a while. When I said I was hunting for grouse in the area today he suggested I go east a few miles. Little did he know how well I knew those hills he was talking about! I said yes that's where I think we'll head but I just want to check the waterfowl production area, which was a small parcel, for any pheasants while I'm here. I asked if he wanted to see my license but he said "No thank you just go ahead. I'm checking for waterfowl hunters today." I noticed his dash video camera was on so he had my vehicle plate recorded as he went up and back down the road anyway I thought if he wanted to check on me.There just are not enough of these guys to deal with the people that think since North Dakota is such a sparsely populated and rural area anything goes. So I actually like seeing them out there.

Beau and I then circled the waterfowl production area where he pointed 3 roosters for me to my surprise as the pheasant population had taken quite a hit here due to 3 severe winters in this area. It looked like one carry over bird and two birds of the year so a successful hatch here possibly. Good news! We walked on back to the north with the rain coming a little more steady as we arrived at the Jeep and loaded up.

This was a good day as I looked over at Beau before we started to head in the direction the Warden talked about. We got some scouting done and had a beautiful point and flush on a full covey of Huns. A treat on any day just to see them rise and hear their signature "Screeeech!"